The day’s subject: His relationship with Nico and how it was going to negatively affect me for the rest of my life. She’d begun by reminding him how much she hated him for living with a woman barely out of her teens and went on to blame him for my future “daddy issues” and impending inability to trust men ever again since the man I’d trusted most (my father) had awakened one morning and decided to abandon his family (me and my mother) for an infant with veneers and plastic boobies. Unfortunately, she’d chosen to conduct her rant in the kitchen where I was making myself a sandwich. My mother wasn’t spewing anything I hadn’t heard before; she’d repeated herself a lot over the last couple months. It was when she warned my dad not to be surprised if one day soon I was pole dancing in some nasty club downtown that I’d had enough, abandoned my turkey on rye, and went outside. I’d moved past being angry about my situation to just feeling defeated.
